


to my heartbeat sound

by thescrewtapedemos



Series: Harlequin ROME-ance AU [2]
Category: Electronic Dance Music RPF
Genre: Ancient Rome, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, harlequin romance, just very little tho but be careful, some serious thigh fucking going on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:16:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9313151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescrewtapedemos/pseuds/thescrewtapedemos
Summary: Some lingering insecurities and how Porter's husband soothes them





	

**Author's Note:**

> a nsfw request for fanny! 
> 
> enjoy!! xoxo

Adam still hasn’t taken him. 

It concerns him less than it had, in some ways. 

He had never feared Adam, exactly, not even when he was a house-slave and anything Adam had deemed entertaining was only his to command and Porter’s duty to carry out. Adam’s kindness to him has been steadfast. Porter can’t find fault in it. 

He’d been... intimidated, however. Adam is strong and rich and powerful and such people, in Porter’s experience, have appetites and cruelty in equal measure. Their first night of consummation had reassured him, _Porter’s_ cock between Adam’s lips and then Adam’s hand around his own cock while Porter traded him sleepy kisses and watched thick red cockhead slide between Adam’s fingers. 

For now their touches seem satisfy. Porter’s taken Adam in his mouth, learned technique to please instead of passively allowing his mouth to be taken. He’s had Adam’s mouth as well, his hands cupping him and bringing him to climax, pleasuring him as he’d never dreamed he’d ever be given. 

He worries, however. He’d thought it beyond assured that someday Adam would take him, work him open and sheath inside him and consummate in full. It terrifies him on some visceral level that Adam hasn’t asked for it yet. He had thought himself tempting to his husband but the doubt creeps with every day that passes that Adam refrains. 

“Peristéri,” Adam murmurs and Porter jolts, looks up to his husband beside him in the bed. “What troubles you?”

He holds a pile of scrolls in his lap, bills of sale and personal correspondence, but he looks at Porter with a soft concern at which Porter’s heart flutters. It’s not long past dusk and perhaps they could speak of this now, perhaps Porter could ask why Adam seems to have no interest in taking him, Adam could reassure him-

“It’s nothing,” he says and turns away, pulls the blankets up to his shoulder and closes his eyes as if sleep could come to him like this. Adam is silent a while longer. Eventually papyrus rustles and then the candle is blown out, the blankets shifting as Adam pulls them over himself as well. 

His arm is heavy and thick wrapping around Porter’s waist, pulling him flush to Adam’s body. He feels himself relax for the first time in hours, instinctual and good. He slips into sleep to Adam’s breathing in his ear.

\--

Adam watches him the next day and it drives Porter to distraction.

He can hardly focus on his studies, eventually retires to the garden to sulk quietly in the shade of their courtyard wall. There is a cup of wine in his hands but all it serves to remind him of is their first night, Adam’s desire to have him, how _certain_ it had seemed. 

Now, it’s his only desire and worst fear. How the stars turn, he thinks to himself and takes a sour sip. 

Adam pauses in the doorway, an armful of scrolls tucked into the crook of his elbow. Porter ignores him and wishes it had felt satisfying when Adam eventually walks away again.

\--

He’s late to bed, hopes this would mean that Adam would have fallen asleep without him. He drifts the halls instead. It terrifies the household, he knows distantly. His mood has been causing whispers in the kitchen and garden and he carries no love for the gossip but he cannot bring himself to care overmuch either.

He cares for the opinions of only one, and he fears that opinion equally. 

Adam is awake when Porter finally returns to their room, cold floorboards on his bare feet. The candle is lit and Adam’s lap is bare of scrolls, only the blanket bunched at his waist. Porter can’t look at him. 

He’s radiant, an example of the perfection formed by the gods, and Porter _desires_ him. He can’t stand that he doubts Adam wants him in turn. 

He divests himself of his robe with his eyes to the floor. Adam’s eyes are on him, he can feel them on his flesh as it’s revealed. He folds the robe unnecessarily, sets it on their couch and finally, finally looks up to meet Adam’s eyes. 

His expression is inscrutable. Porter can’t read it. 

“Come here,” Adam says and it’s almost a command, only a thread of softness giving Porter the option of escape. He could go, he knows. He doesn’t want to. 

Adam’s arms accept him in and he’s drawn into Adam’s embrace with the inevitability that he longs for. They’re pressed together again and it has always felt right to be in his husband’s arms. He relaxes without meaning to, body sagging with the release of the day’s tension. He aches. 

“Speak to me, peristéri,” Adam murmurs. “I would fix whatever concerns you so.” 

Porter turns his face away. He can’t speak suddenly, voice caught in his throat. Adam makes a distressed sound, a large hand coming up to cup Porter’s cheek and turn their faces together again. 

He searches Porter’s face for a long moment and his expression is sad, a shade of hurt that strikes to Porter’s heart to have brought to him. 

“I would fix it,” Adam repeats, more softly still. 

“There is nothing to fix,” Porter mutters and ducks forward, rests his cheek against Adam’s shoulder so that his mouth is pressed to Adam’s neck. All he can feel and smell is Adam, he can taste salt skin against his lips, can hear Adam’s gentle breathing and the slow throb of his pulse. He loves Adam, he realizes as it anew. He loves Adam with a fire that he can’t believe would be given to him. 

Adam sighs and the hand settles to Porter’s back, smoothing the length of his spine. 

“Agapitós, don’t lie to me,” Adam says. There is no condemnation in his voice but Porter flinches nonetheless, from the truth and that he wishes to spill his thoughts once again. He wants to be reassured. 

He wants Adam to teach him how to take his cock. 

“It’s nothing,” he says and sits up. Adam lets him, keeps his hand on Porter’s back and meets his eyes with furrowed brow. “I wish it were nothing. I wouldn’t have it trouble you.” 

“What troubles you is unbearable to me,” Adam promises and his hand finds Porter’s, lifts fingers to his lips and lays a kiss to Porter’s knuckles. His eyes are still intent on Porter’s, an intensity that burns so pleasantly. 

“Ah,” Porter says weakly. He’s stirring, cock twitching between them as it always does. Trained to Adam’s mouth and body and touch. He belongs to Adam, body and soul. Their marriage is true and dizzily he wonders why he allows such doubt to creep in when Adam’s eyes carry banked fire only for him. 

“Please, Porter,” Adam whispers. 

“Do you,” Porter says and then his voice breaks and he turns his face away again. “Do you find me desirable still?” 

Adam’s hand is against his cheek again a moment later, turning Porter’s head with gentle strength and then their mouths are coming together. Hot and slick, Adam’s kisses pressing to him and he feels as he always does; small and desired and cared for, helpless and pleasured and so immeasurable happy. 

“Yes,” Adam breathes against his lips. “I desire you. I burn for you.” 

Porter moans, overwhelmed. 

Adam’s hand is at his thigh a moment later, sneaking beneath him and lifting. The familiar weightless swoop dips through him and then he’s being laid out on the bed, Adam crawling over him. His eyes are afire and Porter looks down the length of their bodies to find his hardness bobbing with the motion, red and thick and telling. 

“If life would permit I would spend every day in bed with you,” Adam says and his voice is hoarse, the grit of it running over Porter’s skin like a touch. He shivers. “I would touch you, kiss you, give you such pleasure. Ruin you for the touch of anyone else.” 

“I’m only yours,” Porter manages. His voice is a broken cry. Adam smiles. It’s gentle. 

“I know, peristéri,” he says and dips to press a kiss to Porter’s collarbone. “I don’t doubt your faith. Only your trust in my own.” 

Porter breathes in and tries to turn his head away. Adam’s teeth find the tendon of his neck and bite and he moans again. 

“I,” he tires and his voice breaks into a moan instead until Adam lets him go. “I only wondered why you hadn’t taken me yet.” 

Adam pauses, a long pause. A quiet pause, heavy with consideration. 

“I would not rush you,” Adam says at last. “Your fear, our first night when we moved together, I would have nothing like that between us for our first joining.” 

The sigh Porter releases is broken and Adam’s hand finds his hip, presses comforting fingers into his skin. 

“There is something I can do tonight, if you feel ready,” Adam tells him. He’s watching Porter with eyes still fire, but again embers. Controlled again, the iron control that brings such a sense of safety to his touch. He would never hurt Porter, Porter knows. 

“Please,” Porter says. His voice is a wanton mess, broken and moaning. 

“I need your trust,” Adam murmurs, dipping to put his mouth close to Porter’s ear. Lips brush his lobe and he shudders. “I won’t take you this night, but it’s something enough like it perhaps.” 

“I trust you, always,” Porter says, a whimper. He’s overcome already, shaking with want, hot with desire. 

Adam retreats from him, turns to the head of the bed and gathers the cushions and pillows. Porter props himself on an elbow and watches him pile them together until he seems satisfied, turns to Porter at last. 

“Here,” he says and helps Porter up to his knees. Porter goes, follows the direction of Adam’s hands with trembling eagerness. Adam lays him over the pile, arranges him with a proprietary ease that surges to Porter’s cock, helped by the unbearable brushes on friction in his erection as Adam guides his thighs together, ass into the air. 

He leaves again for a moment and Porter hears him fumbling with the table beside the bed, grabbing something from it that sounds like potter. A lid is set aside and then there’s a slick noise Porter doesn’t understand. 

A hand finds his thigh and he jolts at the slickness. It’s warm, Adam’s hands have warmed the oil that now coats his palm, but it’s foreign and he shakes. A reassuring noise from Adam that Porter answers, wordless and nervous, and then Adam’s hand is finding his inner thigh and-

His fingers press into Porter’s muscle, dig into it in a way that Porter recognizes with fractured confusion. A massage, hot hands on him pressing the knots away, turning him soft and jellied with released tension. He relaxes into it despite the nerves, a trained response. He can do nothing else as Adam’s broad, oiled hands squeeze and work his thigh muscles, from knee to just below the curve of his ass. 

He tenses a little at the first brush of Adam’s hand against his ass and Adam makes a soothing noise again, retreats and doesn’t return. Porter finds himself wishing desperately that he would but Adam’s hands return to his thighs. 

He’s hard but nearly asleep when Adam finally lets him go. A sort of languid stupor, he’s so slow in trying to lift himself to turn and look. His arms shake in trying to hold him up and he drops back down when Adam’s hand presses gently between his shoulderblades. 

“Trust me, agapitós,” Adam murmurs. Porter subsides with a soft noise of acquiescence. 

There are more slick noises and then Adam is positioning himself behind Porter, settling straddling his legs. His cock nudges the swell of Porter’s ass and for a moment he’s tensing, anxious want filtering through the hazy relaxation. Adam’s hand finds his hip to storke soothingly and he stills again. 

Adam’s cock slips down to press against the channel of Porter’s closed thighs and he realizes dimply the slickness of it. Adam has palmed enough oil to his cock to drip with it, slick and warm, and he still doesn’t understand but the feeling of it is amazing. 

Adam readjusts and then his cock is sinking between Porter’s thighs and Porter cries out, confused and aroused and pleased. 

It’s a strange feeling, pleasure more of Adam’s body bearing down on him and the fact of providing him pleasure than anything, but pleasure nonetheless. He rocks his hips back into it and then Adam settles on top of him, heavy body holding him down, and he can move no more. He moans with it, breathless, and then Adam’s hips begin to move again and he cries out. 

Every one of Adam’s thrusts drives Porter’s cock to rock against the cushions beneath, pleasure unrelenting. He reaches behind him thoughtlessly and Adam understands, catches a hand in his own and presses his mouth to Porter’s shoulder. 

His breathing is wild, panting and harsh, and it goes through Porter like lightning. Adam’s cock is so thick between his thighs, sliding up to brush against his balls, moving so easily in the slickness of the oil. He thrusts so wildly, barely restrained. Porter’s eyes roll back on a particularly brutal thrust and he thinks, dim and distant and incoherent, that he’ll never doubt his husband’s desire for him again. 

He thinks that he’ll take Adam’s cock in him soon, whether he has to open himself on his own fingers and seat himself or no. 

Adam’s teeth catch gently on his shoulder a moment later and his thoughts are gone, nothing but the impulse for him to bite down. Porter wants it. He’s so safe under Adam, surrounded by Adam’s body and his smell and his warmth. So safe, so wanted. He feels hot and tight and full, desperate with the desire to climax. 

“So good,” Porter chokes out and Adam’s teeth close again, harder, a flare of something Porter can’t call pain because it brings too much pleasure. 

“Your thighs,” Adam pants out, releasing him. “So soft, your body is so good, _gods_.” 

His voice is broken with lust. 

Porter comes with a noise that he doesn’t recognize, a soft cry that leaves him with no permission. It strikes and then rolls through him as a tide, pulls him under and under with pleasure until he believes he could go mad with it before it finally releases him back to himself. 

Suddenly he’s loose, can barely hold himself up. His muscles tremble and he aches to turn over in Adam’s arms and kiss him but Adam is still driving his cock between his legs, body tight and working against his. 

He arches his back as much as he can in limited space and murmurs happily and Adam bites out a curse and then wet release is spilling between Porter’s thighs. 

It’s sticky and hot and Adam tumbles on top of him, pressed against him so close that their bodies are impossible for Porter to separate. He remains still instead, lets Adam pepper his shoulders in kisses and his hands roam his hips and sides. 

“I love you,” Adam whispers. He’s breathless. 

“And I, you,” Porter murmurs back. He’s drowsy, still trembling with the force of his release. Adam laughs against the back of his neck and then lays a kiss there. 

“Are you reassured of my desire for you, agapitós?” he asks, tone so falsely innocent Porter laughs. He pushes back with a shoulder until Adam releases him and helps him sit up, once again cradled in his arm. They’re both sticky with release, though Porter more so and also slick with oil. They’ll need to clean themselves before sleep, but for now he hardly wants to move. 

“I am reassured,” he murmurs and turns his head to be kissed.


End file.
